


i want to hold you like you're mine

by beesplsme



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Falling In Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, slight cursing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-04 11:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10990335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beesplsme/pseuds/beesplsme
Summary: The dreams don’t start until two weeks after Victor wins his 5th consecutive Grand Prix medal. He does not remember the first one very well; he wakes up with a blurry picture in his mind of a young man with dark hair. He cannot remember anything else from the dream, cannot recall who it is. He doesn’t really care then.He will.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this is my first victuuri fic ever so I hope you enjoy it! feedback is always appreciated, especially cause this is my first try at something like this. I'm going to try and update once a week, but I'm not sure about that yet. honestly I'm not sure completely about this fic, I'm just trying it out. thanks for reading <3

It’s raining.

The drops hitting against the glass door leading onto the balcony get heavier and heavier. The sound is comforting in a way.

Victor wonders when he’ll stop feeling like his chest is split open.

It’s late in Moscow, late enough that the street lights below blink blearily in the apartment. It lights up the empty walls and the muffled sound of the street fills the room.

Victor wishes he could stop breathing for a little bit.

Long enough so that his phone would stop vibrating constantly from across the room. Long enough that he could skip running tomorrow and lay in his grey sunken bed, a ghost. Long enough so that the world would forget about him and his bones would no longer ache with the exhaustion of just living.

Victor just wants to stop living for a while.

His suitcase is still packed and sitting in the middle of the living room. His shoes have been thrown somewhere and he will have to find them in the morning. A jacket, pants, a shirt, and two empty water bottles are scattered around the room.

He knows that buried deep in his suitcase lies a hunk of shiny metal but looking at it right now would really shatter his thin sheet of control.

Makkachin is not here yet; the doggy day care does not open until tomorrow morning. Victor’s apartment is cold, silent, and dark.

He wonders when he started feeling so numb.

***

The dreams don’t start until two weeks after Victor wins his 5th consecutive Grand Prix medal. He does not remember the first one very well; he wakes up with a blurry picture in his mind of a young man with dark hair. He cannot remember anything else from the dream, cannot recall who it is. He doesn’t really care then.

Victor continues his regular routine in preparation for Worlds. He runs through Moscow in the morning before coming home and eating a breakfast of granola, eggs, and water. Sometimes, he will add toast to spice things up. He then pats Makkachin lovingly on the head before heading to the rink and prepares for Yakov’s yelling and Yuri’s… everything.

He breathes deeply before entering the rink he has known since childhood and pastes on a fake and threadbare smile so the people who care about him, and whom he cares about the most, do not glimpse Victor’s greyness. He proceeds to tease Yuri.

“Yura, did you grow an inch from yesterday? You’re almost to my hips now!”

The response is immediate.

Yuri whips around from his spot on the ice with a growl, his teeth bared.

“YOU FUCKING OLD MAN, I’LL RIP YOUR BALLS OFF!” Yuri’s screams reverberate through the building, and Yakov is desperately yelling at Yuri to stop heading off the ice.

Victor laughs as he laces up his skates, watching as Mila stops Yuri in his tracks, who is still screaming, and lifts him in the air.

It is at this point Georgi walks in, late again, and heads back into the locker room

“PUT HIM DOWN RIGHT NOW MILA,” Yakov roars from across the rink and starts to head towards them to prevent any further conflicts. Georgi will come back out in a minute or two once Mila has put Yuri down, and Yuri’s face will no longer be purple once he stops screaming.

The scene is familiar for the Russian skating family but Victor feels trapped. An endless routine of craving anything but that swirling grey.

It’s still raining in Moscow.

***

The first night he remembers a dream is five weeks after the Grand Prix Final. It is only mid-January and the rain is still not cold enough to be snow. Makkachin is laying in bed with him on this night because this night is a bad night.

Victor knows it’s a bad night because he spent four hours wearing each of his medals and looking in his mirror for bald spots in his hair. Knows it’s a bad night because he could not stomach food and could not wash his hair without thinking it would fall out. Knows it’s a bad night because he still shaking at one am after four shots of vodka and is debating whether or not to call Chris because it might be a very bad night.

He does not call Chris.

Victor slips in bed shaking with Makka trailing behind him whimpering. He pulls up his sheets and hopes sleep will take him.

Sleep takes him around three am.

Victor’s eyes close and he wakes.

***

The rink is older and peeling but still in good condition. Victor realizes he is standing near the rink with a pair of ice skates in his hand. They’re his own pair.

 _Oh_ he thinks. _This must be a dream._

He walks slowly to the edge of the rink and looks around. Everything is written in characters of some kind, definitely not Russian. Could be Japanese or Chinese, but Victor’s not sure. He places a hand on a side of the rink and the feeling of it is so solid he thinks he might jolt awake and be at a real rink.

_Maybe I sleepwalked there. I still have an extra key Yakov gave me._

A door opens across the rink. Inside steps a young man with dark hair and glasses. He is carrying skates too and steps around to a set of bleachers to put them on.

“Excuse me!” Victor calls out to him, stepping closer. Even dream Victor wants to be polite, put on the front.

“Excuse me, could you tell me where I am?”

The man shoots around to Victor with an astonished expression on his face.  

“How did you get…” he cuts off mid-sentence, his eyes are on Victor.

“Oh,” the man says.

“This must be a dream.”

Victor is not processing the man’s words correctly because big, golden brown, beautiful eyes bore into his. His glasses are slipping slowly down his nose from turning so quickly around, a light blush covers his full cheeks.

 _Oh_ Victor thinks with a newfound awe.

_This must be a dream._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone I'm back! I know it hasn't been a week but I was kinda excited about this story so I'm putting up another chapter already.  
> in this chapter I know Victor might seem a little less confident/flirty?/etc than he usually can be around Yuuri, but this is technically the first time they meet and it's in a dream land place that's in Japan and he's never met Yuuri before and he just had a bad night. so he's not really comfy with the situation at hand rn but I think that's ok. the direction I'm going with this means we'll be able to see that victor soon.  
> anyways thank you so much for reading this and the lovely comments and kudos everyone's added! I hope you like this chapter <3

Victor’s fingers are trembling when he walks up to the stranger. The stranger is unfazed and is lacing up his skates. He’s talking Victor realizes, but Victor’s still trembling.

“…and usually we’re speaking Japanese not English, so this is a weird turn of events.” The stranger looks up at Victor approaching and shatters him with a blinding smile.

“Usually you know my name already too.”

Victor can see a sweet pair of dimples from where he’s standing now.

“Usually?”

Stranger laughs quietly, stands up and heads towards the ice.

“Are you coming?”

The stranger is glowing and Victor is gone from this moment on. The smile splinters him once again even though he didn’t think he had anything left to break.

“Ok,” he says and puts on his skates and heads towards the ice too.

“Since you don’t know my name, I’m Yuuri,” the stranger, or Yuuri says to Victor while sliding onto the ice.

“I’m Victor,” he says to Yuuri.

“I know,” Yuuri laughs again and glides to the middle of the ice.

“Where are we?”

“Hasetsu in Kyushu, Japan at the Ice Castle skating rink.” Yuuri stares at him while skating in laps. His hands are held in front of him and he’s still smiling. Victor is enraptured.

“Why am I here?” His voice is disarmingly quiet compared to the vast space in the rink. He thinks the building sucks up his sound and his hands are still trembling.

Yuuri stops skating and stares at him with a puzzled expression.

“This isn’t how it usually goes,” and the silence is shaking now with the softness and hesitancy of his voice.  

“What do you mean?” Victor skates to him but his legs feel stiff.

“I mean, usually you have some reason why you’re here. Or…” Yuuri laughs and a light blush covers his face. He hides behind his hands.

“Usually I come up with some reason.”

_Oh_ Victor thinks again. His eyes are focused on that light pink filling Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri assesses him silently. His hands fidget in nervous knots in front of his stomach but those eyes are sparkling. Whether it’s because of the shitty florescent lighting or because of Yuuri or because this _has to be_ dream land, Victor’s not sure.

“I don’t, uh… I don’t usually even have to tell you my name.”

Victor tries to tether himself to something, anything, for this to make sense. He’s still standing in an empty rink in Japan, apparently, with a man named Yuuri he’s never met.

_I have to be dreaming. Fuck this ice feels so real. What the fuck is happening, what the fuck…_

He stands completely still while Yuuri looks at him across the way.

“But why am I here?”

“I probably dreamed you up,” he admits and his voice cracks at the end. His hands are still twisting and he looks rooted to the ice.

“But… but this is my dream isn’t it?”

The two are stagnant and still.

“I… thought this was my dream?”

Victor watches as the light catches on Yuuri’s glasses and as Yuuri wets his lips. A small pink tongue comes out and goes back in a flash and Victor thinks it _has to be_ his dream because no one this beautiful exists in real life.

“I’ve always had dreams of you but nothing like this. I can’t… remember the last time I even had one since…” Yuuri turns away from him then and skates to the edge of the rink.

“Why aren’t you… you’re not acting like you usually do…”

Victor is a little agitated at this point with the word usually.

“Well, what do I _usually_ do?”

It does not matter that this dream angel is the most gorgeous thing Victor’s seen in years because Victor is in Japan somewhere with a stranger who is telling him this isn’t _his_ dream and if that’s the case Victor’s not sure what to do at all.

Yuuri turns to him as Victor gets closer.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he’s breathing heavily and his eyes are glassy.

“I don’t know what’s happening and you come in and take over the situation almost always and tell me that you’ve noticed me even though I _messed up so badly_ but you’re not doing that and you don’t even know who I am so why _are_ you here? And if you don’t know why and I don’t either than I’m not sure- “

Yuuri is cut off from speaking once Victor grabs his shoulders. A couple of tears are swimming down Yuuri’s face at this point.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here either but for some reason I’m dreaming about you and that has to mean _something._ I don’t think we have to know right away.”

“You mean I’m dreaming about you,” and Victor barks out a laugh as Yuuri gives him a watery smile.

“How about, until we know the truth, we’re dreaming up each other? It’s scarier to think we’re somehow teleporting to each other or something. So let’s go with that.” Yuuri nods gravely and Victor lifts his hands from Yuuri’s shoulders. With no thought at all, he swipes away a stray tear from Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri flinches and jumps, a new darker hue of red covering his face.

“Sorry I just- “

“I’m sorry I didn’t- “

Both of them stop in the middle of the sentence. The two laugh softly and Victor wonders the last time he felt this confused and unsure. He loves it.

“Can we just start over? Hello, I’m Victor Nikiforov, and you are?”

There’s that smile again. Blinded Victor reaches for the hand in front of him.

“Hello Victor Nikiforov, I’m Katsuki Yuuri. I’m honored to meet you.” The dazzling eyes in front of him are all Victor sees before he wakes up again.

Victor blots upright and almost knocks Makkachin off the bed with his urgency. Grabbing a pen and notepad from his bedside table he writes down, _Katsukee? Yuri_ in hurried English. He brings the pad to his chest.

It is the first night Victor remembers everything that happened in his dream.

It won’t be the last.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! I'm adding this rn but I haven't edited it so please be gentle w me :) I'm gonna edit it tomorrow but I just wanted to get another chapter out there. thank you so much for the positive responses and kudos and comments it's super sweet and I really appreciate them. thanks for reading <3

Victor’s fell in love with the ice first.

Ballet was a close second but did not truly capture his heart like the ice did. His mama introduced him to the ice one day when he was still tottering over while walking. She had let him stumble gracelessly onto it while holding his arms and making sure he didn’t fall. He remembers her wide white smile that evening, the wisps of blonde-gray hair flying in his face. He remembers the wool, blue mittens and feeling like he was flying.

He remembers mama leaning down and ghosting a kiss on his head.

It is a rare memory tinged only with joy. The biting wind, his mama’s warm hands, her pink stained cheeks; they are the beginning of his love affair with the ice.

He was drawn in by its dance at first, but it is the permanence of the ice that makes him stay.

Victor’s first love that stays is the ice.

***

The notepad is promptly thrown from the bed as Victor desperately rushes across his room for his phone. Makkachin huffs indignantly as Victor crawls over him, but Victor’s heart is racing too loudly for anything to really take precedent right now, even Makkachin’s position.

He swifts grabs it and types in _Ice Castle Hasetsu, Japan_ in Russian. A page comes up in Japanese and Victor hopes desperately there’s a translation option on the page. It comes up in somewhat botched Russian, and despite the time of operation and available classes, no Yuri comes up. Victor types instead _Yuri Katsukee_ in an English keyboard and crosses his fingers again.

Makkachin is still snuffling form across the room on his bed.

“I know baby,” he coos to the dog all while focusing on the loading page. “Just let me find him for a minute Makka and I swear we can get breakfast and go on a walk.”

Several pages come up next, including a limited, but there, Wikipedia page. It’s written in Japanese again but Victor doesn’t care, not when he knows who he’s looking for. He opens it up and,

_there you are_

it’s his dream angel. The page tells him that Yuuri Katuski, _not Yuri Katsukee scratch that off the notepad of course it’s written differently Victor,_ is a competitive figure skater from Hasetsu, Japan in the Kyushu district. He’s twenty three years old, is the top figure skater certified by the JSF, and…

Victor stares down at his phone.

Makka whines again and jumps off the bed while Victor sits in shock.

“…competed in the 2012 Grand Prix final in Sochi, Russia placing in sixth place.”

Victor’s mind is still whirring.

_How did I not notice him? Why am I dreaming up some man I’ve never met yet went to the same competition with? I competed against him and I can’t remember him?_

Victor finally looks up when Makka lets out a final whine and leaves the room zombie-like. He goes through the motions of his day; he takes Makkahin on his run with him, comes home and eats his breakfast of granola, eggs, and water. He showers and changes and pats Makkachin lovingly on the head but is still walking through the routine with something akin to dream-walking. He continues googling Yuuri, finding several skating programs of his and watches his GPF performance with an intensity reserved for assessing his own.

Watches as Yuuri fumbles and stumbles and fucks up spectacularly but watches hundreds of other performances afterwards of a dancer, a gymnast, a skater. Watches the grace in his Ina Bauer and step sequences. Watches the minor and major mistakes and the gorgeous presentation abilities.

Wonders _why_ he didn’t notice Yuuri earlier. 

By the time he reaches the rink he has played seven videos, stalked the few pictures on Yuuri’s Instagram, and re-read the Wikipedia article four times.

It tells him nothing about whether Yuuri is actually dreaming of Victor and Victor is not naïve enough to hope for that. It doesn’t tell him is Yuuri actually glows in real life too like he did in dream land and Victor can only hope.

Victor enters the rink and Yakov yells and Yuri screams and curses and Mila lifts him and Georgi hides and whines and Victor laughs with his easy smile and pretty white teeth.

But he thinks maybe something is different.

***

Victor rushes into bed that night.

He has eaten a heavy meal of _borscht_ and drank around three glasses of red wine. He had went out and picked up the soup from a nearby shop with the intention of forcing sleep upon him. The wine he knew would also help, and despite the early hour Victor felt tired.

He tugs the sheets up underneath his chin and sits crisscrossed in his bed, Makkachin snoring beside him.

It was no longer raining as hard as it had been yesterday but a light drizzle muffles the apartment. Victor wants sleep to take him already but his heart won’t stop racing despite the weight of his lids.

His phone sits near him on the bed and Victor grabs it and opens Instagram up again. In a moment of daring, Victor had followed Yuuri’s Instagram during dinner. He thinks it won’t be weird because they competed in the same competition however he knows he might be pushing it.

Yuuri’s friend, Phichit Chulanont, is tagged in several photos on Yuuri’s sparse insta. When Victor clicked on his profile to try and gain more photos of Yuuri it’s like hitting the jack pot.

Pictures of Yuuri skating, eating, laughing, in Russia, Japan, America, and various other countries overwhelm him. Victor’s not sure whether he should focus on the cute pictures of Yuuri stuffing his blushing cheeks with some sort of noodles or the picture of him dancing in a ballet studio, stretching on the barre.

There’s around five pictures on Phichit’s profile for every one on Yuuri’s and Victor is eternally grateful for this friendly looking young man and his abundance of photos.

Victor finally closes out of the app and sets it on the bed. His mind is still running despite his body’s exhaustion and he decides to pull the covers over his head and trick himself into sleep.

He closes his eyes and waits.

 

 

_I can’t fucking fall asleep._

“Ahh!”

He throws the covers off his head with an aggression reserved for Grand Prix final performances and dives for his phone again. Makkachin is not pleased with his activity and jumps off the bed.

Victor sits in his quiet room in Moscow and pines for answers and sleep while scrolling through a man’s Instagram he’s never met until the sky grows darker, Makka’s snores become louder, and he falls asleep with his phone on his chest, a picture of Yuuri smiling on Phichit’s Instagram still open.

Victor’s eyes open and he sleeps.

***

He’s not at the rink.

This place is cozy; the walls are a tan color with panels of dark woods outlining the intersections. There’s traditional Japanese paper room dividers and wooden floors. An open dining area faces him and the lighting is warm.

Victor is once again clueless on his location but is oddly ok with it.

_I’m just in dream land again, doesn’t matter if we’re somewhere different. And, I’ll be able to see Yuuri again!!_

Victor heads deeper inside the _restaurant? hotel?_ with a newfound sense of determination. Being able to see Yuuri again gives him a direction and reason for waking up in Japan _hopefully, what if I’m transported to another country?_ which leaves him with less fear than last time.

“Yuuri?” he calls out tentatively to the open space.

“Victor?” a hesitant voice rings out from further back in the area and Victor watches as Yuuri heads around a corner and is facing him.

_Oh no._ Victor thinks with a passionate scared sort of awe.

_He’s cuter than the Instagram led me to believe._

Yuuri stands in front of him with a disbelieving expression and in loose sweatpants and open shirt. Victor can see his collar bones from where he’s standing. His glasses are askew and his hair is wild; his cheeks are once again filling prettily pink and Yuuri’s plumper than he seemed last time. Victor knows if Yuuri turned around his soul would escape from witnessing an ass like he _knows_ this man has.

“Hello!” he says brightly and starts approaching Yuuri. He backs up a couple steps but Victor keeps coming.

“This place looks lovely Yuuri! Where are we at?”

“Uhh, we’re at my family’s onsen in Hasetsu.” Yuuri says. He blushes deeper and fiddles with his hands again.

“I didn’t think… I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“I’m so glad I’m back!” and Victor is. This lovely Japanese dream angel is the sweetest and Victor wants to peel away this barrier between them. He wants to see Yuuri without inhibitions like he is on the ice; he skates with a love Victor wants to know, to touch.

“Me too,” Yuuri whispers and looks up at him quickly.

“I can… show you around?”

“Please Yuuri, I would love that.”

 

Victor asks him around a hundred million questions and he knows he’s being invasive but they didn’t have much time to talk last time and he plans on making this last. He learns that Yuuri really is twenty-three and has lived in this onsen his whole life. He finds out that the place is called _Yutopia_ and that his parents created it and that an onsen is Japanese hot spring and that Yuuri loves it here. Finds out that Yuuri is living in Detroit right now and,

“No, I don’t know why I’m having these dreams.”

They’re walking into the outdoor onsen area and out here it looks like night time. The spring bubbles and heat comes from all directions. Victor briefly wonders what Yuuri would look like bathing in the water, his skin all pinky and smooth.

Yuuri turns to him and speaks to him directly for the first time since Victor got here. His eyebrows furrow.

“I’m in Detroit right now so it’s weird that I’m dreaming up this place. I’m going home soon though.” At this, he turns away from Victor back to the entrance.

“I’ve always dreamt of you though.”

It is an admission that rocks Victor’s core. Yuuri makes way like he’s headed back inside but Victor grabs his sleeve without thinking.

_What?_

“What?” Yuuri refuses to look at him and those cheeks fill.

“Please pretend you didn’t hear that, it’s just easier to…” he shuts up and with a flushing and fumbling motion pulls out of Victor’s grasp.

“I know it’s not really you so I’m just saying stupid stuff I’m sorry.”

“No, never be sorry for being honest with me Yuuri.”

This gorgeous, gorgeous man somehow blushes harder.

“Ok,” he says and runs back inside the onsen. Victor lets him go for now.

 

He finds him in a wide kitchen off to the side of the actual onsen area. Yuuri’s mindlessly placing bowls of some type of food onto the small table on the floor.

“What is that?” Yuuri looks up at him but looks back down once again.

“It’s katsudon. It’s weird I just… found it in here? In this big bowl like my mom would make and the smaller bowls were there too so I figured we could at least eat it.”

Yuuri hands him a bowl and grabs his own and they sit on the floor and eat.

“What is it?” Victor wonders if he’ll ever stop asking questions about this dream place. Wonders it he’ll tire of asking questions from Yuuri.

“Oh, it’s like this pork cutlet bowl with rice and stuff. It’s my favorite meal; my mom makes it every time I win something.”

He brings a bite to his mouth.

“VKUSNO!” and Yuuri jumps from the force of Victor’s voice.

“This is delicious Yuuri I love it!”

Yuuri smiles at him and something warm besides the katsudon sits in his stomach.

“You’re welcome,” and Victor’s staring into Yuuri’s eyes which he’s noticing look more amber than gold now and those long dark lashes captivate him and Yuuri’s mouth really looks fuller than he had thought at first and,

Victor wakes up with a frustrated groan.

If only he had asked for Yuuri’s number.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone I'm back! I think I'm going to be updating every tuesday. or if I feel excited I'll update earlier. However, I'll guarantee by tuesday. this chapter is from yuuri's perspective which I think was needed at some point. I might do every three chapters of each perspective but not sure yet. Sorry this is kinda short, I know the next chapter will be kinda long! I hope you enjoy this and thanks again for reading <3

Yuuri fell in love with Victor Nikiforov first, but the ice was a close second.

He has branded the memory into his skin. Yuuko, calling him over in Ice Castle and setting him down in front of the old TV her parents had bought. Her voice was tiny and high and her eyes sparkled.

“Look at him Yuuri! That’s Victor, he’s the best ice skater ever!” and Yuuri turned to the TV was forever changed.

The grace and beauty that Victor skated with was something Yuuri would never forget. Even at such a young age, Victor was surprising and astounding his audience. Yuuri included.

Those icy blue eyes sucked him in and the mile-long wash of hair captivated him. Victor was an ice prince and Yuuri loved him for it.

That love grew quickly as Victor advanced throughout the years.

The people loved their prince. He was a national hero and beauty combined in one. Women and men swooned alike and Yuuri could hear the chants in his dreams at night.

_VICTOR!_ they screamed and it rained down on Yuuri’s years like a prophecy.

Yuuri knew that this prince was untouchable.

***

He trained harder though. Despite the endless hours questioning over and over his abilities, Yuuri continued to train in hopes of seeing Victor. Years of bruised hips and knees and losing weight and gaining weight quickly punished him. Yuuri was not untouchable and pristine like the ice prince. He struggled and cried and panicked.

He desperately hoped.

Yuuri moved to Detroit to train after studying for so long in Hasetsu. He gave up his family and Vicchan and Minako to be there; he gave up comfort. Yuuri went through the dredges of learning a new language in a new city with new people. He had to study for countless hours and spend days in the library. He practiced, and practiced, and practiced.

Yuuri gave everything to the ice, and it gave nothing back.

Yuuri traveled to the Grand Prix and prayed for something in return. Hoped and hoped that something might change. Nothing did.

Instead, Vicchan died from a horrible accident by himself without Yuuri and Yuuri humiliated himself in front of the whole world. Victor did not recognize him as a competitor, didn’t even care to know who he was competing against. Yuuri lost and lost and fucked up because his family had sent him away to become something, and _now he was coming back with nothing, nothing._

Yuuri’s first love gave him nothing and his second love broke him.

When he got back that first night, he had laid in his bed and cried. Cried because he had failed at the one thing he thought he could be good at, cried because Vicchan was gone, and cried because his beautiful, sweet ice prince…

he really was just an ice prince.

***

When Yuuri first dream occurs, he knows it is a dream. It is definitely not the first time he has dreamt of Vitor. He has dreamt of Victor at the Olympics in 2006 in Turin, his blazing red suit ripped off in the throes of passion (this dream happens a couple of times). He has dreamt of Victor at the Junior championships in 2001, approaching Yuuri after the medal ceremony and finding him in the crowd. Victor smiles with his eyes and tells Yuuri he’ll see him on the ice soon. Has dreamt of Victor in 2011 at the Grand Prix Final, grabbing a cab with Victor, flying to Russia with Victor, and marrying Victor.

Yuuri has dreamt of Victor so many times and in so many scenarios he can’t distinguish certain dreams from other (but the 2006 Olympics dream is truly distinctive). He knows what it’s like to dream about Victor.

This isn’t one of those dreams.

“But…but this is my dream isn’t it?” and this really isn’t how things are supposed to go.

Victor is supposed to know the answers to the questions Yuuri has and is certainly not supposed to ask his own questions. Victor is not supposed to look a little scared or hesitant. Victor always has that wide, wide smile in place and reassures Yuuri that _yes, I came here just for you._

This dream is odd and frightening because it feels so real. The ice is so cold and Yuuri can feel a panic attack coming, which never happens in dreams.

_Maybe it’s a nightmare?_ he thinks, but why would Victor be here?

Victor is never in his nightmares. But after the Grand Prix, maybe…

His ice sweet ice prince was a fairy tale and a lie Yuuri had told himself to continue skating. But after the competition Yuuri knew that man was not real. The world just didn’t work like that. To be confronted with the same Victor Yuuri talked to at the Final is daunting and Yuuri’s breathing is heavier. This Victor is a reminder of his failings and hard work and grief. He does not know Yuuri or his sacrifices.

But instead Victor calms him down, holds him steady. Yuuri is not any less ready to flee but the incoming panic attack lessens a bit. Enough so that Yuuri forces himself to think of this as solely another Victor dream.

Victor is gone once he wakes up so there’s no way it’s not.

But then Victor is back again and Yuuri is not ready for it.

Not ready for that soft smile and pink lips and those icy blue eyes. Those eyelashes that are so light yet so long and if Yuuri looks close enough he can see a couple of freckles. Hair that shines so bright sometimes Yuuri can’t really pin down the color despite having spent hundreds of hours dedicated to staring at that 2008 calendar of shirtless Victor with puppies. It’s sinful how Yuuri’s dream just gives him what he wants and Yuuri’s not sure what more he can take. Victor’s tiny heart smile cracks his own throbbing heart and the ache to touch him is all-encompassing.

How can he stand by and watch his literal, actual dream prince eat his mom’s katsudon in his childhood kitchen, even in this dream world, and keep it together?

So Yuuri tries to grab onto reality by telling himself that it’s a dream and that _Victor Nikiforov_ is not, I repeat not, dreaming of him too.

Yuuri Katsuki, more accurately Katsuki Yuuri, prepares himself for the torment of dreams to come. He knows it can’t stop here. Two similar dreams in a row is a pattern and if he knows anything he knows that his twisted, hungry heart will develop more.

He lets the dreams break him and knows that Victor is untouchable and not real. It is with this idea engraved into his head that Yuuri finds himself frequented with the dreams.

He begins everything by breaking his heart himself, before anyone else can.  


End file.
